


Spin Test: A MarbleLympics Story

by purple_bookcover



Category: Jelle's Marble Runs (Web Series)
Genre: Marble Olympics, Marblelympics - Freeform, sports anime, the marbles are people, this is pretty much a sports anime but with anthropomorphized marble athletes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:01:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23187451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_bookcover/pseuds/purple_bookcover
Summary: The Crazy Cat's Eyes have never finished better than 10th place in the MarbleLympics. But they've got a new recruit this year - Cyan, a young, plucky upstart with dreams of getting gold.They just have to get past the champion Savage Speeders first...
Comments: 24
Kudos: 20





	1. Fresh Meat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cyan's first day with his new team. And his new rivals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sit here at the end of all things, reconciling with the fact that this is what I've become, reconciling with the reality that I have AT LEAST seven chapters of this bullshit outlined. 
> 
> Here we are, friends, starting a story about fucking humanoid marbles in a sports anime AU based off a [YouTube series](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCYJdpnjuSWVOLgGT9fIzL0g). 
> 
> God speed. 
> 
> These are truly strange times we live in.

Cyan gaped at the sports complex sprawling before him. 

MARBLEOPOLIS SPORTS CENTER

He blinked at the words, reading them over and over. He was really here. The heart of it all. The center of marble sports. 

“Hey, kid, you lost?”

He jerked, looking to a tall, blond, yellow-colored man who stepped up beside him. The man adjusted his glasses. Kind, pale eyes waited behind them. The man's banana bright ponytail fell down his back. He was slim and neat in a vest over a button down shirt. 

Cyan thought he must be a coach or something. He couldn't be more different from Cyan himself, with his messy sky-colored hair, green-blue eyes and cool-toned skin. 

“I'm … looking for the Cat's Eyes,” Cyan said.

A wide smile brightened the man's face. “You must be our new reserve.” He stuck out his hand. “I'm Yellow.”

Cyan's eyes flew wide. Yellow? _The_ Yellow? One of the Crazy Cat's Eyes' longtime starters. He crushed every balancing event, setting record after record, recording ever more impressive scores. 

“Not one for handshakes,” Yellow said. “Alright then.” He withdrew his hand.

“Ah, no!” Cyan covered his face in his hands and offered a string of apologies. “I'm so sorry. I didn't know. I can't believe it. It's just.”

He was interrupted by laughter. Cyan peeked between his fingers and up at Yellow, who smiled patiently down at him. 

“It's OK,” Yellow said. “It's your first day. Come on. I'll show you around.”

“O-OK!”

Yellow started toward the complex, nodding to the guard at the gates. Cyan's jaw fell open as he hurried onto the brick path into the complex. Everyone was so … so tall, so athletic, so _amazing_. 

There was Aqua of the Oceanics, one of the best in the biz when it came to water events. He was stretching in the grass, his lanky legs spread wide. And over there was the crusher, Mandarin of the O'Rangers. Her shoulders looked even more broad and strong in person. And there! Pinky Rosa of the Pinkies, as beautiful as she was fast.

Running into any one of these titans of Marble Sports would have been enough to make Cyan's whole year. But to see them all here, together, _near him_. He almost stumbled into Yellow more than once as they traveled through the complex.

Yellow took him past the initial gate, past the outdoor green where athletes warmed up and the hulking gyms on either side of the path. Farther along, they found more gyms, as well as a running track and Olympic-sized pool. 

“Wow,” Cyan breathed.

“And that's us over there,” Yellow said, pointing.

Cyan's heart caught in his throat. This was it. The moment he'd spent all those years practicing for. The moment he'd been dreaming of since he'd watched his first MarbleLympics as a boy. And it was—it was—

He blinked. It was … small. 

Yellow pointed at a squat, old-looking building far from the main path. Unlike the clean, gleaming gym buildings all around, this one was run down and old. As they drew near, Cyan saw graffiti on the side of the structure. “Losers.” “10th Place.” “Always Last in Our Hearts.” And worse. Far worse.

“Th-this is it?” Cyan said.

Yellow chuckled. “I know. It's not much. But, well, we haven't exactly been on a hot streak the past several seasons. We don't have much in the way of funding or sponsors. Come on, I'll introduce you to the others.”

Cyan's heart fluttered again. The others. That meant—

Yellow stepped into the gym. Cyan followed, blinking to adjust to the sudden darkness. He gasped when his vision cleared. 

Blue did pullups on a bar mounted to the wall. He wasn't as tall as Yellow and his dark hair was jagged and spiky where Yellow's was long and smooth. Green tumbled across mats, the small, lithe acrobat twirling their small body through the air before landing gracefully. Their green hair fell in a braid down their back.

Then there was Red. 

Red.

_Cyan crawled closer to his parents' TV as the athletes took the podium. There was the expected showing by the Pinkies and Savage Speeders. But then a third figure took the stand. Small. Young. Hardly any older than Cyan himself._

_Her head was shaved on one side, a long ribbon of red hair covering half her face. And despite being the youngest competitor up there, despite getting Bronze regardless of her youth and inexperience, she was scowling. Furious. So mad Cyan cringed back from the television._

“Hey, Red,” Yellow called. “New meat's here.”

She turned and now Cyan felt the heat of that glare in person. He cringed back as Red approached.

She was about as tall as Cyan himself, and therefore a good head shorter than Yellow, but she seemed to loom as her fiery eyes narrowed to appraise Cyan.

“What's your deal?” she said.

“Huh?”

“Don't just stand there gawking, newbie,” Red said. “What can you do? Are you here to play cheerleader or are you here to win?”

“I...” Cyan gulped. “I'm here to win. Ma'am!” 

Red smirked. “Prove it.”

And that's how Cyan ended up on the track on his very first day, crouched at the starting line beside his literal childhood hero. 

He chanced a glance over at Red. Her red hair fell over her face, but he could practically feel the smirk on her lips. Crazy Cat's Eyes, indeed. And their star player Red was probably the craziest of the whole bunch. 

But Cyan had a secret weapon.

He hadn't mentioned it yet, but he knew it was the whole reason Coach White Eye had recruited him out of college. And now it might just let him upstage the Cat's Eyes' leader.

Yellow and Blue stood off to the side of the track, Blue with his arms crossed over his chest. Green held a flag at their side and grinned.

“Reeeady?” Green said. “Seeeeet...”

Green raised the flag, waving it around. Red and Cyan shot from their starting positions. Red immediately took the lead in the initial straightaway, but Cyan wasn't panicking yet. He waited, biding his time, staying as close as he could. Red was faster than him, there was no denying that, but that didn't yet mean she'd won.

They came to the turn at last. Red hit it smoothly, banking up the raised track in a graceful arc. Cyan was right behind her. But when he hit the turn, he didn't merely curve into it. 

Instead, he threw his whole body into the turn, spinning, letting momentum and gravity fling him around. He was gaining speed, accelerating even as he spun. By the time he got out of the turn he'd be shooting down the track at high velocity. Red had no chance of keeping that lead.

He hit a bump.

It might have been a rock. It might have been a lump in the track. It might have been nothing at all, just force and gravity and momentum and a momentary wobble in Cyan's trajectory.

Whatever it was, it sent him flying. He soared up the turn and over the lip of track. Then Cyan was airborne, flailing his arms and legs as the ground rushed up at him.

He hit it with a smack. The breath was knocked out of his lungs. He heard shouts and footsteps. Cyan struggled to get to his hands and knees, but his whole body was still shaking from the sudden impact. His head was spinning and he had to shake it to clear his vision. 

“Are you OK?” Green said. They offered a hand. 

Cyan missed it the first time they reached for Green's hand. He felt other hands under his armpits, hauling him to his feet. Blue lifted him like he weighed nothing, then held him steady to make sure he didn't topple right back over. 

“Are you injured?” Yellow said. 

Cyan jerked free of Blue's strong hold. “No,” he said. _Not in my body, at least._ His pride was another matter entirely.

That pride took an extra hit when he heard laughter.

At first, he thought it must be Red, but when he turned he found her scowling, more angry than concerned or amused. 

Cyan searched, and then he saw them. His stomach dropped into his feet. The Savage Spinners. Last year's champions. They looked impossibly tall just then in their maroon and yellow sports gear. 

One swaggered closer. Cyan recognized him immediately. Speedy, the fastest person in all of MarbleLympics. His eyes were like fiery amber. His black hair was streaked with yellow and slicked back from his angular face. His teeth seemed somehow unnaturally sharp when he grinned.

“This is your newbie, huh?” Speedy said. “Are you losers shooting for a new low? Wasn't 10th bad enough?”

Red's anger turned on Speedy. Blue had to run to intercept her, but she jabbed her finger at Speedy anyway.

“Say that again, asshole.”

“Oh, I will,” Speedy said. His sharp eyes narrowed. “You're losers. Pathetic. Bottom of the standings year after year. And you're recruiting even more losers to lose again this year.”

“You—”

“You're wrong.”

Everyone seemed surprised by Cyan's outburst, not least of all Cyan himself. 

“Y-you're wrong about us,” he said again.

Speedy raised an eyebrow. Behind him, his teammates snickered. “Oh yeah?”

“Y-yeah,” Cyan said. “Yeah. You are. And we're going to prove it. We're going to beat you this year. We're going to beat everyone. Just you watch.”

“Cyan,” Yellow muttered. Green gasped. 

Speedy's smile only widened. “Big talk. Let's see if you can back it up.”

“We will!”

Speedy shrugged. “You'll have to get through the preliminaries first. I thought they'd be pretty boring this year, but watching you fail before you've even begun sounds plenty entertaining to me.” 

“We won't fail.”

“I suppose we'll see,” Speedy said. “Good luck, scrubs.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


	2. Practice on the Dirt Track

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's day two of Cyan's practice with the Crazy Cat's Eyes. Today, they're working on the dirt track. Red might not believe in him, but Coach does, and perhaps that's enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fear neither gods nor men.

Cyan sat with his back to the wall of the gym, watching the Crazy Cat’s Eyes’ practice. Day two as an alternate on the team meant sitting down, shutting up and watching.

Cyan was riveted. 

He gripped his athletic shorts, mouth hanging open as he watched the rest of the team train. Yellow and Green were throwing a medicine ball back and forth, both refusing to quit even while grunting as they strained to continue the game. Blue was cycling through every type of pull up imaginable – chin ups, muscle ups, typewriters, the works. 

And Red. Red was doing sprints, streaking back and forth, her shoes squeaking as she stopped short, only to turn around and sprint back the other direction. 

Cyan leaned forward, straining to see better. The way she stopped. The way she changed direction so quickly and smoothly. The power with which she pushed off the starting line. It was _incredible._ Small wonder Red was their star player. 

Coach White stood beside where Cyan sat, arms folded over his chest. 

“Pay attention, kid,” Coach said.

“Yes, sir!” 

Cyan leaned even farther forward. He was almost bent in half, trying to see everything, absorb every move, every trick, every ounce of information he could get. 

He heard a soft laugh above and looked up to find Coach smiling down. 

Coach pushed away from the wall, walking toward the rest of the team. He blew a whistle, drawing everyone’s attention. 

“Warmup’s over,” Coach said. “If we want to improve, we need to run events. And we need to run them a lot. From here on out, we’re going to be practicing real race scenarios every chance we get. All of us.”

Coach glanced over his shoulder at that, right at Cyan. 

He turned back to the rest of the team. “I’ve got the dirt track reserved today. Let’s get moving. Cyan, you too.”

Cyan sat stunned for a moment. 

“Get moving, son,” Coach said. “Are you ready to run or do you need a warmup?”

Cyan jerked to his feet. “I-I’m ready, sir. I can run it.”

Coach smiled. “Good. Go on, then.”

There was something in that smile, something that made Cyan determined not to let Coach White Eye down, determined to prove his faith correct. 

He ran to catch up to the rest of the team, feeling small as he fell into step behind Yellow and Blue. They parted, making a little space for him. 

“So, newbie’s doing the dirt track,” Red, walking ahead, said. “That should be … interesting. Try to actually stay _on_ the track this time, hm?”

Cyan felt his cheeks get hot at the memory of his disastrous attempt at spinning the previous day. Today would be different, he vowed. Today he’d not just stay on the track – he’d beat Red while doing it. 

He felt a hand on each shoulder and looked up to find Blue and Yellow flanking him. Yellow smiled down. Blue, well, he attempted to smile, as much as a guy like Blue could. It came out half a grimace, but Cyan appreciated the gesture all the same. Green even turned around to roll their eyes at Red.

By the time they all made it to the dirt track, Cyan was feeling ready. Coach had them line up at the starting gate.

“You want to stay _in_ the groove,” Red shot over.

Cyan let that one pass. 

Coach White Eye raised a flag. “Ready? ...Go!”

The flag dropped. All five of them shot out of the gate and rocketed down the dirt path.

The easiest thing, the surest thing, was to tuck up and roll through the course. And all of them started to do just that, folding in limbs so they could use gravity to send them down the track.

But that was also what made the dirt event so perilous.

Hitting bumps and imperfections at full speed often jostled Cyan from his tuck. More than once, he thought he was going to fly right off the track again. He grit his teeth. No way was he letting that happen. Coach invited him to race with the team for a reason; he wasn’t going to let him down.

Even so, a stick on the path sent Cyan flying into a wall. He struck it hard, losing momentum. He had to regroup and in the process saw Blue and Red fly past him. 

Cyan rushed to regain the momentum that had been sending him downhill. It felt like Blue and Red were getting more and more distant though.

A curve approached. He focused on hitting it smoothly, gliding along the turn. But now Yellow and Green were in his path, bumping into him as they all rolled. And these were no love taps – practice or not, the members of the Crazy Cat’s Eyes were playing to win. 

_Shit_ , Cyan thought. This wasn’t working. 

An old fear swelled up, a terrible, gnawing anxiety. He was going to lose. Worse, he was going to be viewed by the whole team as a loser. They had invited him in, presumably, to improve their lot in the Marble League, but he was only going to make it worse. He was useless. He’d spend the whole season on the bench. 

_Stop it!_ he chided himself. 

One thing he’d learned early on, even as a high school racer, was to only focus on the match at hand. It was worthless – maybe even harmful – to think about an entire season. All that mattered was _this_ race, _this_ track, _this_ moment right before him. He had to seize it. 

Cyan tucked in harder. It was a straight shot for a bit of a way and that was giving Red exactly what she wanted – lots of space in which to pick up speed. But at the end of that straight shot there was a turn, a high, banked curve. And _that_ was exactly what Cyan wanted.

He approached the curve. Red and Blue were already arcing around it and coming out the other side. Cyan just needed a second, just an instant of momentum. He rolled in on himself, hit the curve, felt the lift as gravity shifted– 

And spun.

He could feel it this time, the way the spin worked with gravity rather than against it, the way it complimented the momentum he’d already accumulated. 

By the time he left the turn, he couldn’t see the track ahead, couldn’t really see anything but whirling colors, like the whole world was paint being stirred before his eyes. 

But he could feel. He could feel the momentum rocketing him out of the turn, could feel the weightlessness as he flew down the track, could feel the ground falling away as he shot forward. 

He crossed the finish line.

Cyan came to a crashing halt, half tumbling to a stop. He was gasping for breath, limbs aching from staying tucked during the madness of the spin. Cyan had no idea if it had worked, no idea if he’d managed to catch up at all to Blue and Red. 

Then he stood and found the entire team looking at him.

Red’s eyes had gone wide, her mouth slightly slack. Blue smirked; Yellow smiled. Green was laughing behind their hand. And Coach – Coach gave Cyan a little nod that sent a thrill through his chest. 

“D-did I do it?” Cyan said.

Green’s laugh exploded out now. They doubled over, holding their middle. 

Yellow adjusted his glasses. “Second place. Impressive.” 

Second. Second? That meant...

He whirled on Red, whose eyes had narrowed. 

“Second, newbie,” she said. “Don’t forget it.” 

Cyan’s mind spun. A drunken smile spilled across his face. Second. Second. “Second!” 

Blue finally smiled in earnest, giving Cyan a pat on the shoulder. “Not bad, newbie.” 

“Lucky,” Red said. 

“I think it may be more than mere luck,” Yellow said. 

“That spin is out of control,” Red said. “You’ve all seen it. It’s as likely to land him off the course as on it.”

“And yet, it was rather precise this time, no?” Yellow said. 

Red didn’t respond to that, just rolled her eyes and started off. The rest of the team patted Cyan on the shoulder before they all headed back to the team’s training room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you know you can post just whatever the fuck you want on this site? Anyway, next time we'll get to see Cyan at work and a little personal interaction outside sports. 
> 
> I don't know how the marble/human hybrid body works and I absolutely never intend to think deeply about it. 
> 
> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


End file.
